“What makes it a great day to be a dane?” Typically I would respond to this question with a series of my infamous cliches: “Lunch time” or “Playing in the Denmark courtyard”, but I want my reply to be more personal. Over the course of 280 days (weekends included) I have gained something. Not just knowledge, but an identity. 

As of right now, I am walking. The red clay stains the pavement, shifting under my feet. I hear the spring birds chittering and chirping. My class, journalism, is going outside, and we are going to the barn. Usually, this would only happen in the morning (when I have Basic Agriculture) ,but today is different. Technically speaking, every day is different, but this day is special. Today marks the very last day of even days. From here forth, everyday is a seven period day. 

A typical seven-period day starts with tech theater, where I learn how to build sets and work with power tools. Next is Basic Agriculture, where I hum to plants and talk to fluffy bunnies. Third is Biology. Fourth is Journalism, the very class which elevated my writing. Fifth is ELA. In my experience, ELA resonates with me the most. I managed to create a symphony of friends and relations within the four white walls of classroom 1659. Sixth is math class, the place that enriched my mind with different equations and helped me realize that I want to be an astronomer rather than a doctor. Lastly is French class. Nothing compares to 7th period French 1. Always having an infatuation with the French language, this class implored that interest tremendously. At times I arrive at school with a slumped back and dragging feet. But at the end of the day, my head is held high with a skip in my steps. It isn’t the people who changed my mood; it’s the environment of Denmark High School.

The chiming of the bell signals a change in periods. I start walking again to my next subject. This setting is different from before. A strong contrast from the pavement, the floor is painted with splotches of color. The tiles are shaded with varying tints of blue: Cobalt blue, cornflower blue, french blue, and everything is blue blue BLUE. The walls are white, stark white. Those white walls lie beneath the paper. Each page is different, and each page is art. I am walking to biology class with my friend. Up the stairs, to the right. We arrive at our destination. 

After biology I have lunch. Down the stairs, to the left, my friends and I walk to the cafeteria. We have first lunch every day this week. Normally, I would have both first and second lunch. Now it’s only first. The lunch line is long and crowded. People pushing while others are being shoved. I am standing behind a group of girls. I don’t know them and I don’t think I ever will. The line moves and I take a few steps forward, again, and again. My hand takes the veggie burger and I move further in the line. The lunch lady stops and says “Hello Simryn”. The simple use of my name brings me joy, making me smile. “Hi”. We have a short conversation, then I leave (taking a handful of forks with me).

Everybody says it’s the little things that matter, and I had never considered that ideology until the end of this year. Now I am sitting in a classroom, typing the ending of this article. To answer the question, “What makes it a great day to be a Dane” I must say that it is everything. I’ll always enjoy the smell of the greenhouse, the use of my name, the blue tiles scattered in the hallway. The tiny details will always make it a great day to be a Dane. And in the words of Mrs.Oliver, “Every day is a great day to be a dane, have a great dane day”.